If the world ended tonight,
And the sky fell from the weight of the satellites,
Where would its shrapnel find you?
You who party-hops,
You who never lindy-hops with me, upon request.
You call it ridiculous nostalgia, you call me diluted
And trendy and say I look stupid
With red lipstick on.
You know too much about coffee beans,
Che Guevara, guerilla warfare and women’s rights.
You make me nervous.
I keep waiting for you to slip up,
Spit or scratch, show you’re human
To no avail.
If the world ended tonight,
And the ground crumbled in from toxic waste
Buried bellow our towns,
Would it find you a beer-guzzling spectator
At some cheap peep-show?
Of course not.
You and your raver mentality.
Lousy, pretentious junkies clatter up next door.
I hate you because

perfect eyes and little lips
make me love you.